Spring poem
Little bird, above in a tree,
Don’t treat me like your enemy.
The stuff that dropped from your tiny end
Should not be aimed upon a friend.
While trimming branches, I did my best
To not disturb your fragile nest.
Perhaps I know why you’re upset.
My morning breakfast: an omelet.
If an apology’s due, it’s to you I beg
If a relative of yours was in that egg.
— By Bill O’Neill, 3/21/11 (inspired by a close call)
April 9th, 2011 at 9:07 pm
Very nice, Bill O
You always have had a deft touch with the poetry – and, of course, Haiku
Gregory B
April 14th, 2011 at 11:44 pm
dear Bill
love birds
love omelets
and yr pome
and logo —
time for another poem for poetry month?
is April poetry month because of mixing memory with desire
or because of Shakespeare’s birthday or spring training?
from a fan who is still grateful for a good review last century for a reord called muses use us;
they still do: now i’m sixty-four, with a new cd of originals i’d love to send yr way…
March 24th, 2013 at 12:22 pm
O what a sweet ode to the nearly missed!!